Much like the Ford P100 pickup truck seen in the earlier Weekend Edition post, the Mk3.5 Golf Cabriolet is something wearing the face of something else. The hardware and the hard points, along with the rest of the car from the A-pillars backwards, mean that you’re still getting the same Golf that debuted in 1993, but the appearance was tailored to match the new fourth generation car. It’s hardly different from what Volkswagen did earlier, as the first-generation droptop doubled for the Cabriolet when the Mk2 Golf was built.

This 1999 car actually looks quite good in black, and the Azev A wheels are always a favorite.

Some of the things I dislike on my Ford Sierra are the trucklike handling, slow steering, long-throw gearshift and unrefined engine, along with the utilitarian controls. These are ill-fitted on a passenger car such as the humble Sierra of yours truly, but on a truck they fit the picture, as expected. What, then, a more suitable vehicle than a pickup truck that bears the face of a Ford Sierra?

The Ford P100 has been the name tag for the earlier, Cortina/Taunus based pickup, ute or a bakkie, whatever you would want to call it. The “Sierrachero” here was the appearance for the 1987-on P100, but it’s somewhat removed from an actual Sierra.

Today, I did the sensible thing and handed over my 1986 Volkswagen Polo to the local school’s auto shop. They, in turn, will mount the cylinder head, time the belt, adjust the carb and generally pay attention to turning the white VW into something other than a paperweight. Make no mistake, I haven’t given up on it; I just want to pass the bottleneck so I can continue at another save point when it actually runs.

This meant I did a little parts run earlier today, and happened upon this 1982 Volkswagen Golf Cabriolet for sale. It’s very similar to my Polo in a lot of respects, even if it’s a droptop. The dealer was more than happy to throw me the keys, so I took it for a little drive around the town.

One of the cool things about vaporwave music videos is that they often recycle imagery from 1980s car commercials. A good example of this is the remixed version of Luxury Elite’s Strut, which inexplicably goes with a slowed down Mercury LN7 advertisement clip.

I wasn’t able to source the original ad from where the green, EXP-related FWD Mercury has been snatched, but suffice to say, there are ethereal matte painting landscapes, artificial fog and a trained lynx. Happy viewing!

It’s not only the Lumina and Cavalier I’ve had on my mind recently. Unlike the Cavalier, the Chrysler Neon was sold here officially, and as a result the low end of the Finnish used car market is plentiful, if not flooded with cheap Neons. They are worth nothing here, which means you can pick up a road-legal one for 500 euros. If you want a clean one, you can buy one for 500 euros. If you want to spend more money, you can buy one for 1500 euros. You get the picture: there are Neons available, no-one cares about them, and no-one really cares how much money they will make by selling their Neon and no longer having to worry about anything related to Neons.

Sometimes you come upon a bad idea so obvious it’s visible from space. Last night, out on the town with the Peugeot, I did a double take not entirely dissimilar to the scene in Christine where Arnie first sees the decrepit Fury hulk. Parked across the street from a used car dealer, there was an early Porsche 928 in gunmetal brown, covered in evening mist. It looked completely alien sitting on its own, with a quickly written note on the window that yes, it is for sale, here’s the number.

The difference with anything usually left out for sale was that this Porsche seemed exceptionally clean. No clearcoat damage, no rips on the leather, nothing that would immediately point out a history of abuse or deferred maintenance. It wasn’t your usual Craigslist special, one that would best serve a LeMons prospect. How bad could it be?

For the past weeks, I’ve been scratching an itch that doesn’t go away until I get to experience something. For the life of me, I can’t wrap my head around why I would really like to drive a Chevrolet Cavalier or a Lumina for the coming winter, to get behind those somewhat horribly shaped steering wheels, feel the Scotchgard-treated velour seats, really get into the 1990s feeling of it all.

Is it because those swoopy, rounded things are rarer here than Peugeots in the States? Is it because I want an awesomely terrible cassette stereo with enormous buttons? Is it because I would be trying to make an ironic statement, turning a Lumina into something cool?

The 1981 Tech-1 concept, displayed at the IAA, dictated how Opel’s design direction would look like in the 1980s. It’s not difficult to see the 1986 Omega saloon in the Tech-1, and there are hints of other future models in it.

If the GT2 concept was aerodynamic, the Tech-1 was even more so: a drag coefficient of 0.235 was groundbreaking. Flush 1980s glass was present.

Opel’s 1975 GT-2 concept was a very sleek affair. Displayed at the Frankfurt IAA auto show, the GT2 was designed to be as aerodynamic as possible, and it showed what the possible successor for the Opel GT could have looked like, had one been produced.

Based on the contemporary Manta and Ascona, and powered by the 1900cc four-cylinder unit from Opel’s portfolio, the 105-horsepower car could reach 200 kilometres per hour. Fuel consumption was mentioned to range from 7 to 7,5 litres per 100km, which is very good for the time period, post-oil crisis.

How would a weekend edition garnished with forgotten 1970s and 1980s Opel concept cars sound to you? I’m a sucker to all such things, concocted by taking elements of production cars and detailing them to look otherworldly and innovative.

One such thing was Opel’s Corsa Spider concept from the 1982 Geneva Auto Show. You couldn’t get closer to simple motoring in ’82 than getting a Corsa, but the Spider was a fresher edition.